I'll Be Home For Christmas
by Ael L. Bolt
Summary: A short, sad Christmas story set during Star Trek VII: Generations. Kirk is gone, and McCoy has to learn to cope. hc, cd.


**I'll Be Home For Christmas**  
_By Charmega_

Summary: Short story that begins right after Kirk dies on the _Enterprise-B_, then skips ahead 78 years to his death on Viridian Three. Not your average Christmas fic.  
Category: Sci-Fi/Angst  
Rating: PG  
Author's Notes: Well, this is my Star Trek TOS Christmas fic for this year. And for once, it's NOT an Alternate Universe fic! This one can be considered canon; the writers of _Generations_ left a lot to imagination in the 78 years between the beginning and end. And then, after the end, there's also much left unspoken...  
Also, much thanks to Mistoffelees for putting up with two seperate versions of this and helping me decide to combine them into a third! _Mucho gracias!_

  
  
"Aw come on Bones, it'll be a blast!"

"I told you no Jim, and I mean it! I'm getting too old for this sort of thing!"

"Fine then, but you'll be missing out...besides, I hear Joanna's coming."

Leonard McCoy looked up sharply at the name, meeting the gaze of his captain and best friend. "Who invited her?" he asked, trying to act uninterested.

James Kirk grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know? By the way, she told me she's planning on taking the expert ski trail by herself. She wanted to see if I could find a good doctor, just in case..."

"Dammit Jim, she's my daughter. How DARE you put me in this kind of position!" He glared at Kirk. "Wait a minute, I thought you were taking a short flight on the new _Enterprise_ tomorrow morning. Or did you forget about that?"

Kirk sighed, frowning. "No, I didn't forget. Dammit, I don't want to go but the top brass are basically down on their knees BEGGING for me to do this."

McCoy smirked at the mental image that brought, then shrugged it off. "How do I even know you'll be there?"

Kirk smiled. "Don't worry. I'll be home for Christmas. I promise." With that, he turned and left the doctor's apartment. McCoy watched him go, fully expecting to see that captain at the Christmas party or else.

They would never meet again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

CRASH! "Owww! Dammit, I thought you said this ladder was steady!"

"It is, Dad. You just set it up wrong."

"The hell I did, Joanna."

Joanna McCoy lent her father a helping hand from where he had fallen. Above his head, the Christmas lights mocked him with their rebellious nature. The ladder, too, seemed to be revolting against him.

Doctor Leonard McCoy grumbled and brushed the snow off his jacket. He kicked the offending metal ladder and muttered a curse. "If Jim were here, I bet he could put those lights up in a jiffy, AND stay all in one piece too." He sighed. "But no, dammit, the brass HAD to snag him for the christening. Ah well, he should be calling as soon as the ship gets back."

As if on cue, the comm unit inside gave a shrill whistle.

Leonard tossed his hands in the air. "See what I mean? That's probably him right now." Mumbling to himself, he stomped inside, threw his hat off into a corner, and punched the comm switch. "McCoy here," he growled.

"Doctor McCoy...it's me, Chekov." The Russian looked as though he was in shock; pale, sweaty, covered in grime. But worst of all, there was an aura of sad agony and ultimate loss around him.

All the old doctor's anger drained away immediately at the sound of Chekov's voice. "What's happened?" he demanded, not sure if he really wanted to know. "I thought you were on the _Enterprise-B_ for its launch this morning."

Chekov gulped, clearly unwilling to continue. "I AM on de _Enterprise-B_. De launch took place as scheduled, but...Leonard, I really don't vant to be de one to tell you dis, but..." His voice faltered for a moment, and he took a deep shuddering breath before continuing. "Ve recieved a distress call from two ships, caught in an energy ribbon a few sectors away. Vhile attempting rescue, ve vere caught in de energy field too. De Kyptin-" His voice caught, and he chocked back a sob. "Kyptin Kirk vent to modify de deflector dish for our escape. Vhen ve broke free, de ribbon hit de section he was in and...it vas completely destroyed."

McCoy was rigid in shock. Jim...dead? Impossible! He had to ask... "Are you sure he's dead?"

Chekov lowered his gaze and nodded, once. "I saw de control room myself, right after it happened. Dere was not even de floor left."

McCoy spoke, voice hushed. "Does Spock know?"

Chekov looked up. "It vouldn't surprise me if he did. I haven't contacted him yet, but..." He broke off as his comm unit signaled an incoming message.

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "I think that's him now. Why don't you put it on audio?"

Chekov nodded, and hit the switch. "Chekov here."

"Pavel, what's happened to Jim?" The normally calm, emotionless Vulcan was in near hysterics. His breathing was hard as if he had just run a thousand kilometers, and his voice was filled with unknowing anguish. "What's happened to him?"

"Kyptin Spock..." Chekov tried to voice his thoughts carefully. "Dere's been an accident..."

He needed not speak further. "Jim's dead, isn't he?" Spock interrupted, unnaturally calm again.

"Yes, sir. I'm wery sorry..."

There was the sound of a heavy-hearted sigh. "He died alone, just as he said he would," the barely-audible voice came over the speaker. As if unaware the other two could hear him, he continued muttering to himself. "Jim..._t'hy'la_..." And then the sounds of heartbreaking grief, poured out in long-withheld tears.

Unable to bear it any longer, McCoy snapped off the comm unit and turned on the holovid unit, hoping to find something to prove otherwise. He looked up, and once again his chest tightened painfully in grief.

Displayed on the screen was a picture of Kirk, outlined in black and red. The headline at the top of the screen was what caught his attention.

STARFLEET'S GREATEST CAPTAIN DIES IN FREAK ACCIDENT

The newscaster's voice played in the background, barely audible over the roaring in McCoy's ears. "What started as a test flight ended in tragedy today, after the newly-built _Enterprise-B_ responded to a distress call from two El-Aurian transport ships. Their agressor, dubbed to be an energy field of some kind, is reported to have destroyed both El-Aurian ships. The new starship sustained major damage in the attempt, primarily on Decks 13-15, Sections 20 through 28." The images switched to a view of three men, facing away from the cameras and staring into a yawning void of stars. "The deflector control room, shown in this live footage, is apparently where the famous captain spent his last minutes as he raced to save the ship. In a brilliant improvision, the starship escaped with 47 refugees, but minus one irreplacable man."

The view zoomed in on a distraught Scotty, his face streaked with soot and tears. "After a thorough search of th' surroundin' area, I have no choice but to b'lieve that Cap'n is no longer alive." Then he shoved the cameraman away from him, disappearing into the crowd.

McCoy stumbled, and gripped the back of a chair to support himself. He squeezed his eyes shut against the burning tears. "No..." _Jim, you promised..._ It seemed impossible. Just hours before, Kirk had been talking and laughing with his friend as if there were many years to come. But now...he was gone. _Oh, DAMN, he's GONE!_

With a cry of anguish, McCoy smashed the holovid to pieces, and then slumped to the floor, sobbing.

~~~~~~~

Seventy-eight years after the ill-fated launch of the _Enterprise-B_, Admiral Leonard H. McCoy settled wearily into his anti-grav chair, feeling each and every one of his one hundred forty-some years. He knew his family wanted him at home to help decorate for yet another Christmas, but the recovery of Jim's body was more important than anything in the world.

The funeral service was massive, attended by every living being who had ever met Captain Kirk. Peter Kirk stood next to Scotty behind McCoy's chair. Spock stood as close to the crystal coffin as he could, eyes riveted to the eternally peaceful face. A large group of people McCoy didn't recognize also stood to the side, all with sad faces and many tears. Even a Klingon honor guard was assembled at the service; it was ironic since it was a well-known fact that David Marcus-Kirk had been killed by Klingons, provoking an intense hatred of the race in Kirk for years afterward.

The service lasted for hours while stuffy admirals blathered on and on about such-and-such a mission, how brave Kirk was, etcetera etcetera. McCoy caught himself dozing off several times, but always woke with a start the instant Jim's face entered his mind.

McCoy bowed his head, unable to bear watching any longer. _Well Jim, I guess you were late again,_ he thought toward the man in the crystal casket. _You're the only man I know who's ever been late to his own funeral._

A soothing yellow light permeated his consciousness, and he could swear he heard Jim's voice. _'See? I told you I'd be home for Christmas, didn't I Bones?'_

McCoy glanced out the window, watching the soft flakes of snow drift down from the sky. Somehow, he felt as if Jim were watching him from above, smiling down from Heaven.

_That you did, Jim,_ McCoy thought, finally at peace. _That you did._

The End. 


End file.
